The chamber fell silent. The council members were frozen in place. Even Ishtar seemed momentarily at a loss, her usually sharp tongue unable to form a response.
Rhyssand stared at her, his eyes wide with awe and disbelief. "You should not be here," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
Slowly, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his cheek. "I made you a promise," she said softly, her voice filled with a mixture of fury and tenderness. "We are in this together."
The council exchanged uneasy glances, their divinity wavering in the face of her overwhelming presence. For the first time in centuries, the heavens themselves trembled.
"What is your purpose here, daughter of Gilgamessiah?" one of the council murmurs, their voice trembling.
Artizea's gaze swept the room like a predator surveying its prey. Her long strides echo loudly in the silent hall as she walks forward, "Is it not obvious?" she asked, her voice cutting through the celestial murmurs like a blade. "You have heard the prophecy, haven't you? I am here to carry out a promise made 500 years ago. I am the voice of the primordial mother."
The celestial court fell silent, faltering at the sight of her—a mortal wielding such power, claiming dominion in a place no mortal had ever dared to tread. "You dare bring that monster's chaos into the celestial realm?" one council member said, regaining his composure. "You have no voice here…"
"Your hypocrisy is what brought us here!"Artizea shouted. Her eyes, now a carbon copy of her father's, sweep across the room with menace.
"You interfere in what you know nothing of!" Azreaphel snarled, then narrowed his eyes, his aura flaring with divine wrath. "This is a divine court, to make sure traitors get what they deserve!"
Artizea tilted her head, her expression unimpressed. She steps forward, every movement deliberate, exuding dominance. She halted in the center of the hall, her gaze locking with who she could only assume would be the right hand to the queen, acting king…
"You would judge Rhys?" she says, her voice calm but laced with defiance. "Have you forgotten that there is judgment above even you?"
The air grew thick with tension, the realm of heaven trembling under the weight of her words. Until the queen raised her newly materialized scepter, then used it twice to call for order, as the sound rang out in the temple, the weapon glowing with the combined power of her lineage and her will
"Well, what a spectacle you have made? I tip my crown to you." Ishtar drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Rhyssand glared at his mother, but Artizea did not falter. Her gaze locked with Ishtar's, a silent challenge burning between them.
Ishtar sneered, her eyes narrowing at Rhyssand then back at Atizea. "The balance of creation is not for mortals—or half to question."
Artizea's voice, cutting through the air like a blade. "Balance? You have spent three centuries hiding behind lies, letting the world believe in a false prophecy just to hold on to your power."
Her voice rose, filled with righteous fury. "Tiamat was not the monster you painted her to be, and neither am I. You twisted her story, while erasing her truth, and condemned her legacy—like you intended to do with mine, all because you could not bear to be seen as anything less than what you portrayed. herself to be a god worthy of all praise."
The council stirred uneasily, the golden light dimming slightly as her words struck a nerve.
Artizea took a step forward, "The endless bloodshed of power, the manipulation, the imbalance…It all ends today."
Azreaphel smirked, his voice laced with venom. "Do you even understand what you are meddling with, mortal? You are nothing here—"
Before he could finish, Artizea's aura flared, a burst of primordial energy silencing him. The air around her shimmered, golden and fiery, as the whispers of the court grew louder.
Azreaphel faltered, his smirk slipping for a fraction of a second. He glanced at Ishtar, who remained stoic but tense, her fingers gripping the hilt of her celestial blade.
Rhyssand chuckled softly from behind her, his voice laced with amusement despite the tension. "Careful, Azreaphel. She bites."
Azreaphel growled, but before he could retaliate, Ishtar raised a hand, silencing him with a sharp look.
"Azreaphel, sit," she commanded, her voice cold.
But he did not.
"Azreaphel. Sit." She said more firmly. Once again, this time, He did as he was told.
Ishtar then turned her attention back to Artizea. "You are quite bold, I will give you that," she said, her tone laced with condescension. "But even with the power of Tiamat, you are just a mortal girl playing goddess."
As Artizea approached the platform, "We'll see about that."
Ishtar watched with a steely gaze, but Azreaphel, emboldened by his anger and grief, could not hold his tongue.
Fuck this. He thought. "She does not belong here!" he spat, stepping forward. His voice, once tempered with reason, was now sharp with disdain.
Ishtar said, "Azreaphel—"
But he wasn't listening, he continued. "Her blood has cursed us all… It is why we look like THIS!"
Rhyssand tensed, "Azreaphel, don't—"
"It was because of you, Jacqures, my only friend in this hell, who perished." Azreaphel said with bitterness, "And through her, " he pointed at Artizea with determination, "I will make you suffer!"
But Artizea raised a hand, stopping Rhys from speaking. Her expression was calm, but her fiery eyes bore into Azreaphelwith unshakable resolve. That's all it took for Azreaphel's composure to break. His wings flared, and he summoned a divine spear, its tip blazing with celestial fire. He roared, charging toward her, damn the consequences. Gasps erupted from the court. Even Ishtar's eyes widened at Azreaphel 's reckless attack. But Artizea did not flinch. She raised her hand, her fingers curling as a portal of light shimmered into existence. From it, a divine sword—crafted from the very essence of creation—emerged, its blade blazing with radiant energy. With a flick of her wrist, the sword shot forward, piercing Azreaphel before he could reach her. He froze, the fire of his spear extinguished as the divine weapon impaled him. His golden eyes dimmed, his form crumbling into golden ash. The court fell into stunned silence, the weight of what had just occurred sinking in. Artizea lowered her hand, her expression unreadable as the sword dissolved back into the portal from which it came.
Rhyssand closed his eyes, silently mourning the last of his companions, "She was within her rights to defend herself," his voice cutting through the quiet. He met Ishtar's gaze, "Your laws are clear on that."
Ishtar's lips pressed into a thin line, her composure cracking ever so slightly.
"What a shame, if only —someone— warned him…" Demeter said sarcastically.
The celestials whispered furiously among themselves, their murmurs filled with awe and fear. Their faith in their Queen was starting to deteriorate. Never. The judgment hall shook with divine tension—an invisible noose tightening around every soul present. Ishtar stepped forward, each heel clicking like the toll of a war drum. The air around her shimmered brightly. Her snow white drapes billowed through the blood spilled across the tiles. Her eyes, golden and venomous, burned into Rhyssand and Artizea.
"I—" she began, her voice slicing through the silence, "Am. The Queen of the heavens—"
She raised her hand. Crack. A bolt of divine energy lashed across the room, a thread of glowing magic—fast and unrelenting—striking Rhyssand square between the eyes. He gasped. His body stiffened. Then, He fell. Crushed to his knees, spine bowed, forehead trembling against the golden floor, as if the heavens themselves were pushing him down.
"Rhys!" Artizea reached out as she dove forward, catching him before he collapsed fully. Her arms wrapped around him, trembling with rage and helplessness. She could feel it—his memories being drained, his spirit suffocating under her command.
"No—Rhys—Fight it!" she whispered, panic tightening her throat. "Stay with me—"
Ishtar descended the stairs of the tribunal, each step a declaration. "I," she seethed, raising her voice for all to hear, "I am your godsend, Mother. Your maker."
"You are hurting him!" Artizea cried, her voice cracking— her dragon spirit flaring—but still chained by the laws of the Celestial Court. She could not arm any living thing unless it was in defense of herself…
Rhyssand's fingers twitched in hers. His jaw clenched in agony, His eyes flickering with guttering pain. "Tiz…" he managed to croak.
"No—" Artizea cried out. "Rhys, don't leave me again—"
"I'm sorry…" he rasped.
Ishtar moved closer, towering above them. "You belong to the throne—" she growled through gritted teeth, magic twisting with madness, "—To me!" Before she could complete the extraction, there was a flash, faster than a heartbeat—then steel.
"Enough."
The word came not from Artizea, nor from the gods who cowered in silence. It came from Demeter. His sword was unsheathed and pressed to Ishtar's neck in the blink of an eye. Its divine edge gleamed, catching the glint of her crimson aura.
Ishtar froze. Her eyes snapped to him in disbelief. "How dare you—"
Demeter's jaw was tight, his voice low but trembling with fury. "Do you think," he said, each word measured and deadly. "I'd let you erase my son?"
For the first time, Ishtar looked afraid. Still, her defiance was infused in her veins, "Our son," she hissed.
"No." He stepped closer, pressing the blade just enough to draw divine blood. "Mine." He stepped closer, his sword pressing deeper. "He is my son."
The court watched in stunned silence as they saw the wrath of their king consort for the first time.
Rhyssand groaned in Artizea's arms, the spell loosening, as if his father's words alone unraveled the magic choking him.
"Rhys—look at me," Artizea whispered, cupping his face with trembling hands. "What's my name? Say it. Say my name."
His eyes fluttered open, unfocused pupils growing, then contracting, pain warping his features.
"Let. Him. Go!" Demeter's voice was thunder, final and sovereign.
Ishtar's hand trembled. Her spell cracked—and shattered like glass in a storm.
Rhyssand slumped forward, breathing raggedly.
Rhyssand collapsed forward, breath tearing in and out of his lungs. Artizea caught him before he hit the ground, dragging him into her arms and holding him so tightly he could feel her heartbeat hammering against his cheek.
She pressed her forehead to his, breath shaking, her hands cradling his cheeks as if she could hold his soul in place through touch alone.
"Remember me," she whispered. "Remember us."
And then she let go. Every memory she had of him—every laugh, every bruise of the heart, every kiss stolen in war and peace—she pushed it all into him, the same way he once had with her. Her magic flickered, thin and trembling, but she forced it forward. "Let there be light…" The words wavered, a prayer, a command, a last desperate plea. She felt the divine spark inside her strain, flicker… then dim. When Rhyssand opened his eyes, they looked the same—too calm, too empty, too untouched by her.
"Rhyssand?" Her voice cracked.
But his frown only deepened, confusion wrinkling his brow. Her heart dropped. Tears spilled down her cheeks before she could stop them, sliding down onto his skin as she whispered, barely audible— "No… no, please—Rhys… don't forget me…" she whispered into his hair. Her tears fell onto his temples like warm rain. "I am here. I'm right here,"
There was a moment of silence.
"Hi Here, my name is William…" Rhyssand rasped.
Artizea choked on a watery laugh. "Close. Actually, I'm a maid disguised behind a chicken mask."
"Ah… it seems I've wasted my attempt…"
"Actually," she breathed, brushing his bangs from his eyes, "I lied. My real name is Artizea Pendragon. Say it with me. Ar—"
"Ar…" he grunted, trying.
"Tiz…"
"Tiz—"
"Zea."
"…Zea." A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"You got it," she whispered, relief flooding her chest. "You remembered."
"How could I forget you…" He murmured weakly.
She sniffed, wiping his cheek. "What's yours?"
"You can call me Rhys," he whispered. "The long shit doesn't matter to me anymore."
She laughed—really laughed, a deep one from her chest—and he breathed as if the sound alone revived him. They leaned in at the same time. Their lips met.
And the angels lining the celestial trail gasped in outrage. "Blasphemy!" They cried.
But Rhyssand did not care. Not even a little. He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss as if claiming the life he almost lost—and the woman he refused to lose again. One celestial fainted when they saw a hint of tongue.
Ishtar slowly lowered her hand—her reign slipping like sand through her fingers, as the man she thought she controlled finally stepped into the light.
Demeter refused to move the blade.All eyes turned to the man who had never once spoken in his own son's defense. The one he thought had cast him aside long ago.
"Now you want to be a father, huh? You can't kill me, Demeter," Ishtar laughed, her voice trembled with both rage and disbelief.
But Demeter's grip on the hilt did not loosen. Not even slightly. "Oh no…" he murmured, his voice quiet—yet it carried like thunder through the Judgment Hall. "I am not going to kill you." He leaned in, close enough for only her to hear the next words: "I've been waiting for this day for twenty-six consecutive years. For you to stand on trial and pay for everything you have ever done. Every lie. Every manipulation. Every stolen possibility."
She did not flinch, but her eyes darkened. "You can't get me on anything… and you know it." Her voice curled like a serpent around the truth. "You have no evidence. No proof. And even if you do remember everything, you'd also remember why."
Demeter's jaw tensed. His breath hitched—for just a moment.
"Even if I did do what you accused me of, I did you a favor—Face it—" she paused, "You are stuck with me."
The trial hall crackled with tension, the crown princess's presence pressing down on everyone present.
Yet Artizea finally stood tall, unshaken by the overwhelming power of Heaven. Her eyes gleamed with a new, eerie brilliance, inherited from her father's blood and new divinity —the Clairvoyant Eyes, capable of unraveling the deepest truths with a single glance, the world around her falling away as the threads of time unraveled before her. She saw glimpses of Demeter's life, fragments of a story shrouded in pain and betrayal. Each scene unfolded like pieces of a tragic puzzle as she surveyed the court. Her gaze fell upon Rhyssand's Father. She turned her piercing gaze to the Father, who now looked less like the ruler of Heaven and more like a crumbling shadow of himself.
"I know," Artizea said, her voice sharp and unyielding.
Ishtar's gaze snapped to her.
"Know what?" Demeter said sternly, his eyes still locked on Ishtar.
"The true reason behind your lover's death." Artizea sad
The court fell silent, the angels frozen in shock.
"She was a commoner in the mortal land, someone you loved so deeply that you dared to break your own rules for her." Her tone grew colder, sharper. "When Ishtar discovered your secret, she saw an opportunity, didn't she? She blackmailed you into marrying her, threatening to reveal the truth to all. And you—coward that you are—agreed, sacrificing everything to protect yourself from the shame of being cast out."
Ishtar's aura flickered, and his hand tightened so hard her nails drew blood. She was losing the battle. "You know nothing," she growled, but his voice trembled.
"I know enough," Artizea said, her crimson eyes narrowing back at Demeter. "I know you hid her to protect her from Ishtar." She paused, letting the weight of her words settle over the court. Then she delivered the final blow. "And the child she bore? The one you could not bear to acknowledge because of fear. That child was Rhyssand, wasn't it."
Gasps erupted from the gathered celestials. Rhyssand himself staggered, his wings flaring as he stared at Artizea in disbelief. The council murmured louder, their voices rising in a wave of doubt and shock. Some turned to the Father with questioning eyes, their faith shaken.
"Is this accusation true, Demeter?" one of the council members asked, their voice trembling. "Did you… course with a mortal?"
Demeter did not speak. He could not say it. He could not risk them. "Tell them!" A voice shouted.His gaze snapped toward Artizea, "Tell your son the reason!" His aura flickered at her command; it was as if her words had struck at the core of his being. His gaze lowered to his now trembling hands as memories long buried began to resurface.
The vision shifted to a faraway land, vibrant with the soft pink blossoms of cherry trees swaying gently in the wind.
There, Demeter stood, his celestial form humbler, more serene, as his long hair was retraced to that similar to an average human male, A disguise.
Beside him was a mortal woman; he did not remember what she looked like physically, but her soul said her eyes were as warm as the sun, and laughter filled the air with joy.
She tended to the cherry trees with care, her hands brushing the blossoms as if they were sacred.
"I've never seen anything more beautiful," Demeter murmured as he watched her.
The woman smiled, looking up at the trees. "They remind me of you, always blooming beneath the mask of hiding."
Their love was quiet but deep, a bond formed far from the celestial courts and their endless politics.
But it was a love forbidden by heaven's laws, and Demeter knew the cost if it were ever discovered.
The vision shifted abruptly. Demeter now stood in a gilded hall, his expression pale as Ishtar confronted him.
Her voice was sharp and cutting. "You think you can hide? A celestial god, soon to be king, consorting with a mortal? The council would throw you into the void without a second thought if they found out."
Demeter clenched his fists, his eyes narrowing. "This has nothing to do with you, Ishtar."
She smirked, stepping closer. "On the contrary, it has everything to do with me. I wish to elevate my standing in heaven. You shall fit the role perfectly. Accept my proposal willingly, and your little secret stays safe."
"And if I refuse."
"Then I will broadcast it to the entire court, though they may let you off the hook due to your blood, you know what they will do to her in your absence, don't you…"
Demeter's heart sank, his mind racing. He thought of the woman he loved, of their quiet life together, of the child she was carrying—their child. If Ishtar revealed the truth, everything would be destroyed. "You will leave her out of this," he gritted out.
Ishtar's smirk widened. "I swear it."
He faked his death as a human and returned to his celestial obligations.
Demeter's shoulders slumped as if the weight of the truth had finally crushed him.
Ishtar froze in the realization that her husband may actually answer. "Do not you dare. I raised that boy. You do not get to take that from me—" she hissed.
"Yes…" he admitted, in a whisper, "It is all true."